Chapter 1
What should have been a wonderful honeymoon for a couple actually turned into a nightmare of unbelievable magnitude. Roger and Becky McClendon stood by the Grand Canyon taking pictures to send back to their families and friends. “Pictures just don’t do it justice,” Roger said.
“I know. However, I am so glad we came here. What a great ending to our honeymoon.” She smiled at him as they clasped hands to walk back to their car. One more night in their tent under the stars and then it was back to the real world. As the sun set, they drove back to the camping ground where their tent stood over to the far edge of the camp in a wooded area. Soon Roger had the fire going and they roasted wieners and pulled out the chips and coke. The McClendons were hikers and loved the outdoors and camping on their honeymoon made perfect sense to them. After eating and sitting by the fire, Roger got out his guitar and strummed some songs, which they sang together. He soon wiggled his eyebrows, “Ready for bed, Mrs. McClendon?”
She rose with a smile, “Yes. Tomorrow it is back to our jobs, living on a budget and going to school at night. So let’s enjoy it.”
Soon the tent was quiet and the lovebirds were asleep. Becky rolled over and listened. There was someone moving outside the tent. She could hear someone walking in the leaves. She quietly punched her husband in the side, “Roger, someone is in our camp area. I hear them walking.”
He sat up rubbing his face, still half-asleep. “I’ll go check. It is probably some lonely coyote or stray dog. However, I do not want you to worry. I’ll get up just for you.” He leaned down and kissed her. He unzipped the tent and started to step out. Becky spoke up, “Roger, do we have a weapon?”
Roger chuckled. “For a stray dog? I’ll be fine.”
She lay back down as he disappeared through the opening. Then Roger’s scream ripped through the night. Becky jumped up and looked for something to use as a weapon. She grabbed Roger’s guitar and charged out of the tent. What she saw was so horrible, so terrifying all the blood rushed to her head and she fainted.
Her next thought was why am I outside lying on the ground? She sat up rubbing her eyes. There in front of her was what was left of Roger. His head was gone and his body disemboweled. She sat up and began screaming, hoping this was a nightmare. She stood up, went inside the tent, and dialed 911. She could not breathe! She got the information to the operator and stayed inside the tent until help arrived from Flagstaff.
She started shaking and crying. Roger lay destroyed on the ground. She began to lose her dinner.
That is how the Flagstaff police found her, sobbing and throwing up. They put her in the police car and walked the scene. Flagstaff Police Chief Charles “Chuck” Masters stood still with three other officers observing the slaughter.
One of the younger officers left for the bushes and lost his dinner. Chuck had served with the Marines in the Gulf War. He had seen a lot of deaths but this one defied description. He told his officers it would be daylight soon. The crime scene people were on the way and nothing was to be disturbed around the body.
“You guys walk the woods around here, in twos. In addition, see what you can find. And if you see whatever did this, fire two shots to let us know and if it comes towards you, kill it, quick.”
They nodded and walked off, reluctantly. Chuck went to his cruiser and sat down beside the hysterical young woman there. “Becky, your name is Becky?”
She nodded and he continued. “Can you tell me what happened here? I know you are in shock but we need to catch whoever did this.”
She lay her head on the back of the seat and told him. Then she jerked her head up and said, “Why didn’t the guy kill me? I fainted. It would have been easy.”
“I don’t know. But we will solve this thing and find out who killed your husband.” Much later Chuck would realize he promised something he might not be able to deliver.
Two weeks later Darryl Sims a well-known photographer was taking pictures in the Casa Grande Park. The large 4-story structure lay in the late day sun and Darryl was trying to imagine what it must have been like to live around here centuries ago. Unlike many areas he had photographed, the sun and lack of water here preserved this old ruin so well. The only problem now was keeping people from taking any of the potshards away or snapping too many pictures and walking through the place.
He was tired and started back to his car, stowing his equipment as he went. He had parked in the visitor’s parking lot. No one seemed to be around. He headed for the men’s room and went inside. Once through using the facilities he leaned over the sink to wash his hands. He was grabbed from behind, his neck immediately broken and then the horror started.
Hours later, a park ranger saw the car sitting in the parking lot and knew the visitors had to be out of the park by sundown. The owner of the vehicle must be asleep in the john. He walked in and faced the same horror that Becky McClendon had faced when she came out of the tent. He ran and called the police.
Once again, Chuck Masters stood and looked at the carnage. It all looked very familiar. “What does this look like to you, Bob?”
“It’s the same, sir. It was the same as the McClendon man. The same. What in the world, do we have here, sir? A maniac?”
“I don’t know but we need to find out, quick, before panic takes over. Whoever did this is huge, extremely strong and mad, as you know what. Let us call the crime scene people and then you and I go to the office and begin to make a board on these killings. Hopefully, they will not continue.”
He could tell Bob did not believe him and he did not believe himself.
He and his five ranking officers set up the boards, a long roll of wide white paper. On it they put dates of the killings, people killed, type of killing and the time between each homicide. “There’s two weeks between the McClendon killing and this one.”
Bob spoke up, “Chief, every two weeks…surely this maniac will not keep this up.”
“I don’t know. However, the killings are alike, done by the same person or persons. What I cannot figure out is why the killer did not kill the woman? She was out, fainted. That would have been an easy kill.”
Jack Strong spoke up. “Because she had passed out and was not a threat. However, that does not make sense. Roger McClendon coming out in pajamas with no weapon was certainly no threat.”
Chuck walked over to his desk. “Well, we’ve got two weeks to see what we can piece together. Jack, you go talk to the crime scene people. See if they came up with anything. Bob and Ed go back to both scenes and sniff around to see if any locals have had any problems. We need to solve this, people. Our next step is to go to the Navajo National Police and see what they come up with.”
Everyone scattered, a job to do and do it quickly.
Two weeks to the day from the killing of Darryl Sims, Judge Leroy Harper was on the road to Sedona with his wife, Sylvia and his sister, Ladonna. They were discussing their weekend getaway in Sedona. Being patrons of the arts, the Harpers loved Sedona as the community provided a wonderful array of painting, clothing and museums.
The car began to swerve going around a curve in the road with high red cliffs on each side. “Oh, no.” Leroy said, “I think we have a flat.” He hit the steering wheel with his hand. “Out here in the middle of nowhere.”
Sylvia’s hand fluttered up near her face. “But, Leroy, you can’t change a tire! You’re a Judge, for goodness sakes.”
Leroy shook his head. You can take the lady out of Charleston, South Carolina, but you cannot take Charleston out of the lady. “I don’t intend to. All I have to do is call AAA and someone will be here in 20 minutes.” He took his cell phone, made the call, and told them where they could find him and told them to come on the double. He was a judge! He laughed.
He slowly got out of the car and walked around to look at the tire. The women got out and looked. There was a slight breeze. “Its cooler out here than in that big ole car,” his sister Ladonna pouted. She walked a ways and spotted some wildflowers blooming. “Come see the flowers, Sylvia. They remind me of the south.” Sylvia walked over and they ooh and aahhed over the flowers. Leroy thought he saw someone coming around the red sandstone wall. Now that would be a break! Maybe he could pay him to change the tire and get on to Sedona. He walked forward a little and saw what was coming towards the car. His heart almost stopped and he wheeled around and tried to run to the women. “Run! Get in the car!” Both women turned and saw Leroy assaulted and his neck broken, then his head flew off his body. The killer rushed them, grabbed one in each arm and threw them to the ground, pulled some rope from around his arm and tied them up, facing away from Leroy. As they sat there in shock, crying, they could hear the carnage going on behind them. Blood splattered their backs and the sounds were terrifying.
Finally silence. Ladonna tried to speak, “Sylvia, Leroy……..”
Sylvia whispered, “SSSSShhhh! He may not be through. Don’t make a sound.”
When the AAA truck arrived on the scene, they immediately called 911, untied the women and put them in their truck to wait for the ambulance and the police.
With the siren going full blast, Chuck and Bob sped towards the scene. “He killed a state Judge this time” Chuck said. “This will bring in the Feds. However, I understand. Stopping him is what we have to do and it has not happened. Every two weeks. Like clockwork.”
Bob spoke up, “Boss, we did everything that we have ever done to solve murders before. This one is different. Bad different. It was not because we did not do our job.”
“I know. I just feel so useless for the first time in my life.”
They pulled up to the crime scene and knew what they would find. The man torn to pieces and the women not harmed. “Why does he spare the women?” Chuck said and slowly got out of the car to another horror.
A few days later J. W. Earp sat in the Phoenix office of the U.S. Marshals service listening to his superior tell him about the murders near the reservation. Killing an Arizona Court Judge was extremely serious. It was now a priority to find the killer or killers.
“This has resonated all the way to Washington. It seems that the wife of the judge is a sister to someone high in the government. We need to move on this quickly. Take Jim Starnes with you. He is new and this will be a good one to break him in on. Give me daily reports on how it is going. It seems the locals, specifically Sheriff Chuck Masters, are totally in the dark on who killed these people and why. They will resent you coming because they did not ask for help. But just be your nice, quiet self and do your job.”
He grinned at J. W. and stood up. Leaning across the desk, he shook the hand of the big man known for his hard work and case solving skills. J. W. walked out and went over to his desk. “Jim! Starnes, get over here.”
Twenty four year old Jim Starnes walked over to the desk of his superior and sat down. “What’s up?” He knew something was. J. W. Earp did not take his job lightly. Anything he had to talk about would be serious.
“You and I are going over to Flagstaff and see what we can do to help the locals over there with a string of murders. We need to find the killer. So pack a small bag and tell whoever you need to that we will be gone until the job is done.”
J.W. looked down at the papers on his desk and Jim knew the talk was over. J.W. Earp was a man of few words but was one of the most respected men in the U.S. Marshals service. “When do we leave, sir?”
Intense blue eyes stared back at him. “Tomorrow, early. Be at my place at 7:00. The earlier we get there the quicker this can be solved.” As Jim walked back to his desk, he was not looking forward to spending days or perhaps weeks with the tall, black haired, blued eyed man who seemed to have no friends, certainly no women friends. All the women in the office had tried to flirt or let him know they were interested but J.W. stalled them. All of them gave up, deciding he just did not like women but everyone knew there must be something in his history that wounded him badly.
After work, J.W. went to his condominium and listened to his messages. The one from his mother, Frances, he would answer quickly. He loved his tiny mother who had raised five strapping men and taken in ironing to send them all to the university. J.W. was the middle boy - Will, James, J.W., Cody, and Brady. Will and James were partners in a large ranch in Colorado; Cody rode bulls in the rodeo circuit and Brady was a Marine, serving in Iraq.
J.W. took a quick shower and went to the kitchen to fix an omelet with toast and a cup of coffee. He smiled a rare smile when he thought of what the people at work would think of the “man of stone” who cooked. He knew what everyone thought of him. He was a very private man who had suffered early in life. He thought of Liz and his chest tightened. They were sweethearts in high school and all through college. She was vivacious, sweet and made him laugh and enjoy life. A low-life shot and killed her in a robbery. Turning to law enforcement was the answer for John. They had caught the creep who murdered her and he was now on Arizona’s death row. J.W. would go to the prison and be there when they pulled the switch on him, for Liz.
Since that time 4 years ago, J.W. had dated some, but everyone left him cold. He had turned hard but he loved his work. Maybe someday, he would meet someone else but now he simply wanted to go to Flagstaff and bring in this killer.
After cleaning up the kitchen, he called his mother. “Hi Mom. How’s my favorite girl?”
“John, do you know yet if you will be home for Christmas this year? Brady will be home from Iraq. All the boys will be here- Will, Marilyn and the kids, James, and Susan will be down from Colorado. Cody called me tonight and he will be here. So you need to come too.”
His mother lived in California near coast on the family farm that was now only a small plot of land on which the old house sat and a garden, flowers and trees. J.W.’s dad had died of a heart attack 3 years ago, but left his mother well fixed. That piece of land was worth a fortune but it was home to her. She would not sell it and the boys were glad. They could always go home.
“That’s a couple of months away, Mom. I will make every effort to be there. It will be nice for all of us to be together again.”
“Son, are you dating anyone?”
She asked the same question every call. “No, Mom. She is out there somewhere and someday I will find her. Be patient. It’s not like the rest of your boys will not be giving you grandchildren.”
He could hear her sigh. “But I worry about you, J.W. You need a good, sweet woman in your life. However, I know I need to be patient. I just want to see you happy and content. You are such a good man.”
J.W. smiled. Every one needed a mother like his. “Listen Mom, have to go. I am going up to Flagstaff for a few weeks, but I will call you from there. There have been some murders there they need help with.”
“Alright. You be careful, son. You are special to me.”
His throat tightened up. “I know, Ma. You are to me too. Goodnight and I love you very much.”
“Me Too.”
He hung up the phone and went into the bedroom to pack a small bag. He always traveled light.
The next morning at seven sharp Jim showed up and parked his truck on the side of the condominium. “Can I leave this here?”
“No, let me pull mine out of the garage and you can pull it in there. It will be safe there and you won’t have to worry about it.”
They left once J.W.’s SUV was packed. J.W. drove a special equipped four-wheel drive land rover with a hand built engine. This enormous truck could outrun anything on the road and was good for tough terrain travel. It had saved his neck more times than he could count and he babied it.
Once they were on the road, J.W. glanced at the young man beside him. Jim was 24, nice looking, friendly and natural born flirt, flirted with everything in skirts and they loved it. Jim told everyone he never married because it would break hearts all over Arizona, which was probably true. He gave J.W. a bad time because Jim knew women were interested in J.W. but he was a loner.
“Jim, let’s get some things straight before we get to Flagstaff. I am the ramrod in this. You can voice opinions, remind me of things and speak your piece, but in the final say, I have it. Do not constantly call me sir. I know you do it out of respect but I do not want to feel like a drill sergeant. You can call me J.W. or John and I do not mind. Do you have any questions?”
“What does the J.W. stand for?”
J.W. laughed and it shocked Jim. No one ever hears him laugh. Jim thought, you don‘t suppose J.W. might also have a sense of humor. “The J is for John. The W is just a W.”
Jim grinned. “Is it for Wyatt? You know like Wyatt Earp?”
“The W is for Willy. Now leave it alone. Everyone thinks with the last name of Earp that you have to be Wyatt.”
“The W is for Willy.” Jim looked skeptical.
“Willy. Now look over that file before we get there.”
J.W. found some easy listening music and drove in silence. He could tell Jim hated the music and that was funny. “Sir, I mean John……”
“J.W., Jim. J.W.”
“J.W., do you like that elevator music?”
“Yes. It relaxes me. What kind do you like?”
“Country. It keeps me awake and thinking about girls.” He grinned.
“I don’t think you need music for that, do you?” He smiled at the young man.
“No sir.”
Arriving at the Flagstaff Police Department, the two Marshals walked in wearing jeans, boots, white shirts and hats. The only thing giving away that they were Marshals were the badges pinned on their belts. The U.S. Marshals badges were gold, a circle with a star in the center. Deputies, like Jim, had silver badges. The big reception room became still as the two big men walked up to the receiving counter. “We’re here to see Sheriff Chuck Masters.”
“Certainly, sir. Follow me.”
Masters was standing up and coming to meet them in a back office. Introductions were made and all sat down. They all sized each other up, quickly. J.W. saw a large man who had seen some hard miles. Chuck saw two men, the older one definitely the leader and a good-looking duet it was.
“Glad you guys could come. I have heard of your work, Earp. We are pleased that you have come down to help us on this case. I get very few cases in here that we can’t solve but this one is getting out of hand, with the Judge’s death.”
“From what I have read, it is unusual. The first thing that struck me was the severe destruction of the bodies. The second was why doesn’t he kill women?”
Chuck knew he had winner. Smart guy. “Yes, that is what we are trying to figure out ourselves. You know, if you wanted someone dead, just strangle them, shoot them but to almost completely destroy them is overkill, to the max.”
“So the crime scene people haven’t found anything unusual at the scene?”
“No. Just lots of the victim’s blood. We know this about the killer or killers. They would have to have massive strength and huge hands to do what they do. The only people alive who have seen the killer are two little old ladies, the judge’s wife and his sister. The wife is in the psych ward at the hospital, sedated and the sister will not talk. She is completely out of it.”
“So they can’t give any type of description?”
“Only that the killer is big and that he did not hurt them.”
“Unusual to say the least. I guess the best thing to do is try to interview the sister if we can and go from there.”
“Why don’t you two find a Motel to check into and unload your stuff and I’ll meet you back here at one o’clock and take you to see the sister. We may have to go see Professor Hunter out at Northern Arizona University. The professor knows more about this area than probably anyone around here.”
J. W. leaned forward. “Why would we need to go see a professor?”
“Because the enormous Navajo Nation Reservation is right on our back porch and this could involve them. It is the largest Indian reservation in the nation, covers over 26,000 miles in three states. In the 2000 census, they registered over 180,000 people out there. The killer could be hiding out there, I do not know. But they have a good police force headed up by Charlie Cooper.”
“I didn’t think about that. That is a possibility. The killer might only come off the reservation to kill and then go back.”
“That is true. They have some good men with lots of experience and knowledge of the rez. They actually have K-9 patrol, dive team, tactical ops and 45 criminal investigators. Tops.”
“I’m impressed. I think I am part Indian. My dad was one quarter Navajo.”
“Yes, I can see that.” Chuck noticed his dark hair and skin. However, the Paul Newman blue eyes threw you off some.
Jim thought; wait until the guys at the office hear this. We have a part-Indian Marshal. The men stood up to leave and the Marshals walked out of the police station with every eye on them, knowing that the big boys had shown up. Chuck closed his office door and sat down. He was impressed with the two men and felt that now maybe they could dig into this mess and find a solution.
